


Through A Funhouse Mirror

by J_D_McCormick



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 2P Hetalia, Bloody Violence, M/M, Murder, Non-Permanent Character Death, dark 2P, i know some people don't like the evil murdery 2Ps but I DO OKAY, warnings for:
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:56:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28460514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_D_McCormick/pseuds/J_D_McCormick
Summary: “Why are you doing this?” Romano growls lowly, glaring up at them. “What the fuck do you gain from this?”“More land. More power.” Flavio says, shrugging. “Plus entertainment. Once you’ve completely conquered a world there’s not much fun in it anymore. Luciano had the wonderful idea of just finding a new one and starting over.” He grins.[A snapshot of an invasion]
Relationships: 2P South Italy/Spain, South Italy/Spain (Hetalia)
Kudos: 12





	Through A Funhouse Mirror

**Author's Note:**

> Tale as old a time, song as old as rhyme, Mirror Universe~
> 
> So I realised that the dark 2P trope people sometimes complain about is basically just the plot of Crisis On Infinite Earths and the dark 2P universe is basically Earth-3, then watched [this video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4eLRFyjhAs4&lc=UgyglxKiGWXpyq1Tn1V4AaABAg.913apblLgrX9Hw4_BZtjfM&ab_channel=Truth) and got inspired. So enjoy this fic I wrote based on exactly 2 shots of a 4 minute video.

**_Prussia_ ** _  
Everyone on high alert. Powerful hostiles in pursuit. More on their way. Don’t hold back._

“What the fuck?” Romano mutters, frowning down at his phone. “Spain, have you gotten this message?”

Spain pads out of the bathroom, towelling his hair dry. “Message?”

“Prussia sent me a text – something about powerful hostiles and high alert.” Romano says, holding out his phone to Spain. The older nation looks at it and frowns, then checks his own mobile.

“Si, he sent me one too… That’s strange.” He murmurs. “But serious. We should prepare to defend ourselves.”

“Really? That bastard is never serious.” Romano scoffs.

Spain shakes his head, tossing his towel into a hamper and pocketing his phone. “Prussia likes to joke, but not like this. If he’s serious about anything, it’s battle. If he thinks there is danger and we need to prepare, then he’s probably right.”

Romano opens his mouth, about to ask if Spain really thinks this is something to worry about, when there is a loud crash at the front door. The Italian startles hard, eyes going wide.

“Shit. What the fuck is that?” He hisses.

“Bad news.” Spain says lowly. “Come with me, stay close. My axe is downstairs.”

There is another crash, and Spain starts down the corridor, towards the staircase. Romano can feel his hackles raising, the back of his mind screaming at him about danger. Going downstairs only makes that feeling worse, taking them closer to whatever is trying to break down their front door – but neither of them are in the habit of carrying or keeping weapons. They have one room downstairs, filled with all kinds of trinkets and keepsakes from throughout their histories; Spain’s battle axe has been a decorative feature for at least a century now, untouched, gathering dust on the wall as something more pretty than functional. Romano quietly wishes he had one of his old swords hanging up there, as well.

They reach the room just in time to hear the wood of their front door splinter – a few more crashes and bangs, the sound of their door being forcibly broken open, then footsteps inside the house.

“Ciaooo!” A voice rings out cheerfully. Something immediately feels very wrong about it.

Romano freezes still as Spain starts to slowly try and lift the axe from its hooks. More footsteps – two people, not worried about being loud. Confident.

“Dio, look at this place. No sense of taste.” The voice tuts. There’s a clatter as something topples over. “And inhabited by cowards, apparently. Hello? Ciao? Hola? We know you’re in here somewhere!”

Romano looks over to Spain. Something else is tipped over, much closer, and the Spaniard’s attempt to quickly lift the axe and stand ready makes the hooks rattle. Romano feels his breath catch as there’s a brief silence from outside.

Then, a bright laugh, tinged with cruelty. “Found you.”

“Romano, get behind me.” Spain says, low and serious. Romano scurries to obey, yelping as the door opens to reveal the intruders. When he turns to look at them, he can’t believe his eyes.

The two men on the other side are himself and Spain, as if seen through a funhouse mirror and a few heavy filters, recognizable but distorted. Spain’s lookalike stands quietly, his own axe resting casually at his side – his hair is jet black with a white streak through the fringe, eyes a cold brown that sends a shiver down Romano’s spine. In front of him, grinning sharply, is Romano’s own doppelganger – blonde, wearing expensive designer clothes in white, and tinted shades which distort the pale colour of his eyes.

“Che cazzo…” Romano mutters.

“What language.” His doppelganger tuts, giving an exaggerated pout. “Andres, take care of that, would you?” He gestures towards Spain.

“Just try it.” Spain snarls. Andres chuckles quietly, moving closer slowly.

The flash of the axe swinging for them comes fast and sudden, and Romano flinches away, certain it’s going to hit. There’s a clash of metal, and then a laugh. It sounds like a twisted mockery, Spain’s bright joy perverted into something dark in the double’s mouth.

“You’re actually good. I didn’t expect it.” Andres hums. He smiles, wide and dangerous and excited. “I was worried I wouldn’t have any fun with this.”

“You won’t.” Spain hisses, like a promise, as he shoves Andres back and makes his own attack.

The fight feels like it lasts an age, as Romano’s heart seizes painfully with every axe swing in Spain’s direction. He never had much chance, as a younger nation, to watch Spain truly fight – he was more often overseas, gone elsewhere to fight, with Romano only ever seeing the aftermath. Seeing it now, he thinks he doesn’t have the stomach for it. Every movement is brutal, fast, and Romano can see the lethal intent. Blood is going to spill here, no matter who wins, and the thought that it may not be Spain makes him sick.

In the end, it really only takes a few minutes.

One well placed attack by Andres, and the handle of Spain’s axe is broken, and without the proper leverage to grip and swing, another hit sends the blade tumbling down. The older nation backs up quickly, pressing Romano into the corner of the room, shielding him with his body. Romano reaches out and grips the back of his shirt tightly, trying to keep his breathing calm.

“There you go, Flavio. Disarmed and ready.” Andres hums, looking down at Spain and Romano, eyes cold and hard again.

“It’s been a while since I saw you really fight, tesoro.” Flavio purrs, pressing himself to Andres’ side. “Do you think Luciano will let us keep them around for fun?”

“Mind on the job, Flavio. Pleasure later.” Andres intones, even as he touches a hand to Flavio’s waist.

Flavio tuts, rolling his eyes as he steps back from Andres again. “Fine. You’re as bad as my brother sometimes.”

Romano feels a flare of disbelief and horror, that these two strangers are talking so casually, acting so intimately, after breaking into his and Spain’s home and attacking them. One of Spain’s hands moves back, searching for his own; he grips it tightly, afraid but taking at least some comfort from the other nation’s presence.

At least until Andres, suddenly grinning again, drags the sharp blade of his axe across Spain’s throat.

“ _No!!_ ”

Romano scrambles to pull Spain away from the blade, into his lap, but the older nation is already choking on blood, eyes wide. Arterial spray gushes thick and hot from the wound, immediately coating Romano’s hands as he tries to apply pressure.

“No, no, caro, hang on-” He mumbles desperately. “Hang on, you’re okay… I-I’ve got you, Spagna, I’ve got you…”

He’s aware, dully, of Flavio and Andres continuing to speak over the horrible gargling noise Spain makes as his body fruitlessly tries to breathe in air instead of blood. Death may not always last long for a Nation, but that doesn’t stop the pain or the fear of it. Romano’s breath trembles as he cradles the Spaniard in his lap, unable to do much more than sit with him and hold him as that fear slowly dims from his eyes.

“Dio, Andres! Warn me before you pull that shit! Do you know how much this blazer cost me?”

“Far too much, probably.”

“Blood stains like hell, Andres.” Flavio sneers. “And for those of us that have more colour in our wardrobe than black and dark brown, that’s a problem. And this is _white_.”

“Maybe you should wear more black and dark brown.” Andres scoffs. “I assume that means you don’t want to handle that one?”

Flavio huffs, straightening out his jacket, checking himself over for rogue bloodstains. “No, I don’t.” He says, looking down at Romano. He smirks a little. “Besides, I think it’ll be more fun to keep him alive. I don’t think we’ll have any trouble taking him with us. Just tie up his hands and get the two of them into the car.”

“Why are you doing this?” Romano growls lowly, glaring up at them through tears. “What the fuck do you gain from this?”

“More land. More power.” Flavio says, shrugging. “Plus entertainment. Once you’ve completely conquered a world there’s not much fun in it anymore. Luciano had the wonderful idea of just finding a new one and starting over.” He grins.

“You’re a bunch of sick bastards.” Romano hisses. “You’ll pay for this, you know.”

“Will we?” Flavio taunts, chuckling. He makes a dismissive gesture. “Get them into the car. Fratellino will be mad if we play with them too long.”

Andres nods, kicking Spain’s body unceremoniously out of the way before grabbing for Romano’s wrists.

“ _Don’t you fucking touch him you son of a bitch!_ Bastardo, I’ll fucking kill you, just you wait.” Romano snarls, lashing out at Andres as best he can, one bloody fist catching him in the jaw before it’s caught and held painfully tight. He struggles, kicking as hard as he can, trying to bite the doppleganger’s hands as he starts tying the ropes. “I’ll kick your face in, tear you right open, I swear I will – _I told you, get off him!!_ ”

“He can’t feel it.” Andres hums, shrugging as he kicks at Spain again before yanking Romano up to his feet. When Romano throws his weight down, refusing to co-operate, he simply lifts him over his shoulder.

“So much trouble. Honestly.” Flavio tuts, shaking his head as he walks with them to the car, picking his way around the destruction they’ve wreaked on the house. “I wonder if Luciano’s double is as troublesome and pathetic as you.”

Romano’s eyes flash as he puts together pieces of what Flavio has talked about. “If you touch Veneziano, you’re dead.”

“Oh I highly doubt that. Especially since _he’s_ probably already dead by now. Fratellino has very little patience with hostages.” Flavio grins cruelly. Andres dumps Romano into the backseat of the car unceremoniously. “Don’t worry, you’ll get to see him soon.”

Romano swallows thickly, trying not to think too much about that. Looking down at his bound, blood-stained hands does not help. He knows Veneziano wouldn’t fight back, even a little. He knows he would be scared.

Andres hefts Spain’s body into the backseat next to him. Already, blood is starting to clot around the wound, but it’s still terrible to look at. Romano lets out a shaky breath and strokes a hand carefully over Spain’s hair. He has no idea how they’ll get out of this; but he tries to believe they will. They must.

“It’s a lovely night tonight.” Flavio hums, smiling as he lounges casually in the front seat. “Let’s go, Andres. Maybe we’ll have time for pleasure yet, if we get back quickly.”

Andres hums lowly, and starts the car. Flavio gives a pleased sigh as they set out, tilting his head back to enjoy the wind through his hair.

Romano stays quiet in the back, gaze fixed on Spain’s face, trying to keep calm although it’s hard.

He has no idea what comes next.

**Author's Note:**

> *I fully maintain that the Italies are perfectly capable and even potentially good at fighting, especially with blades, if the situation calls for it. That's a story for another time. For now, know Romano used to have a multitude of swords he was extremely proficient with, but didn't keep any of them For Reasons.  
> *Used Flavio and Andres because that's what one Wikia said were the most common names for these two and I liked them.  
> *Just from the brief flashes of Flavio in this MMD PV I immediately knew the character would fit perfectly into my Favourite Trope Ever which is smarmy pretty boy who's into Murder. I love him a lot. He's beautiful, fashionable, a little prissy, a lot petty, and he loves watching people suffer. He also likes being in charge and getting henchmen to do the dirty work for him.  
> *Andres is my other favourite murderer trope, which is cold and emotionally dead until Murder occurs, at which point he takes gleeful pleasure in whatever method of killing he prefers. The only times he shows emotion is Murder and Sex, and the sex has to be very rough. Unfortunately for him Flavio loves it, and him.  
> *I have heard that "caro" is considered antiquated in modern Italian but consider: Romano is over 2000+ years old, and it's Tender (and I like it). Flavio uses "tesoro" just to highlight the difference between him and Romano.


End file.
